


The Drift

by Wayward_Daughter



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Gratuitous Monster Violence, M/M, Pacific Rim fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Daughter/pseuds/Wayward_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a war between humanity and gargantuan sea monsters wages on, seemingly obsolete pilot-operated robots desperately hold the enemy off. Almost near defeat, two unlikely candidates: a former pilot and a trainee, join together in one last effort to save the world from the apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the characters listed have very brief appearances. Others are only mentioned.

When Dean Winchester ever felt small or lonely, he would look up to the stars and wonder if there was life up there.

Turns out he was looking in the wrong direction.

When alien life first entered the human world it was from deep beneath the Pacific Ocean. A fissure formed between two tectonic plates, creating a portal between dimensions called the breech.

Dean was ten years old when the first kaiju made land in San Francisco. By the time jets, tanks, and missiles took it down six days and thirty-five miles later, three cities were destroyed and tens of thousands of lives were lost. The dead were mourned, the attack was memorialized, and then people moved on.

Only six months later, the second attack hit Manila. The third hit Cabo. After the fourth, it was soon realized that this would not stop. This was only the beginning. Countries all over the world set aside their differences and old grudges to pool together their resources for the common good of creating a new weapon. To fight monsters would mean to create monsters of their own.

The Jaeger Program was born.

There were heavy setbacks at first. The neural load needed to interface with and control the Jaeger proved to be too great for a single pilot alone, so a two-pilot program was implemented. Jaegers were designed with left hemisphere and right hemisphere of pilot control. They started winning; jaegers stopping kaijus all over the globe.

But the jaegers were only as good as their pilots. So Jaeger pilots turned into rock stars, danger turned into propaganda, and kaijus turned into toys. For years things went on like this. Battles between Jaegers and kaijus became almost normalized for people who weren't directly affected. It became almost too easy. Less and less people died and things seemed to look up.

Then everything changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Twenty miles off the below-freezing Alaskan coastline, a blaring alarm and a female-voiced AI startled Dean awake, announcing a level 3 kaiju (codename: Knifehead) had just emerged from the breech, and immediately tossing him into a fit of anxious excitement.

It was mid 2020. The Kaiju War was in its seventh year.

"Hey, Sammy! Wake up!" Dean drummed his hands across his little brother's top bunk before reaching his head and pulling his face close "There's movement in the breech! We're being deployed."

Sam squinted and grumbled, pushing Dean out of his breathing space and running a large hand through his mop of hair. "Right. Your breath stinks, by the way."

"Well, good morning to you, too." This was the only time Dean was ever up-and-at-em this early. Especially not at--Sam takes a glance at the LED projection on the wall--goddamnit 2am. Dean was already fully dressed in utility pants, boots, and his signature leather bomber jacket (one of a matched set) by the time Sam dragged himself into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

“How long have you been up?”

“’Bout as long as you. Now,” Dean tossed Sam’s boots at his chest “put on your dancing shoes and let’s boogie.”

Sam and Dean Winchester never considered themselves heroes. If you came up to one of them ten years ago and told them they would be working for the military and saving people's lives, they would've laughed and said "Not a chance". They were awesome pilots, sure, and they could hold their own in a fight, but one of their skill sets stood above all else; one very unique.

They were drift compatible.

Suited up by their team in matching black and white armor (“I look like a Storm Trooper.” Dean had once commented with an amused grin.), the Winchester brothers were ready to drop; Sam on the right and Dean on the left.

Dean punched in a few numbers on the keypad set above his head, connecting their station to the command center where their ops was waiting. “Morning, Bobby!”

“Mornin’, idjit.” Sam and Dean both learned very early on that Bobby used insults as terms of endearment. Well, most of the time, anyway.

“Prepare to drop, Mr. Singer.” a familiar feminine voice revealed in the back of the grainy intercom. Naomi had been whipping asses into gear since long before the Winchesters entered the Jaeger program. She was normally friendly (Dean's actually managed to get a couple of smiles out of her), valued order and civility, but was also ruthless and pretty damn intimidating.. And she was really good at her job. Dean admired that about her. “She’s a boss” being his first impression.

“Marshall on deck. Preparing to drop.”

Their Jaeger: renamed The Impala after being refinished with black paint and reminding Dean of the car in which he and Sam spent most of their childhood, unhooked and plummeted, landing a helmet head square between the shoulders of a hulking metal body. Steam burst with a loud hiss as titanium muscles and tendons latched and moved together, arms and fists locking effortlessly into place as Sam and Dean set for a smooth calibration inside.

In view from the outside, The Impala was whirring to life. An awesome sight of her exhaust burner glowing bright orange and frontal headlight beaming out of the opening gates for miles, reflecting off the glassy sea. She was wheeled out carefully into the freezing ocean, rain pounding on the cool metal and monstrous crashing waves lapping at her feet.

“Alright, boys, prepare to initiate neural handshake.” Dean could almost hear Naomi’s quirk of a smile through the intercom. She’d never say as much, but Dean was pretty sure they were her favorite team.

“Ready to step into my head, bitch?” Dean smirked without so much as a glance.

Sam snorted. “After you, jerk.” The automated voice through the speakers was counting down to the neural handshake. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Initiate.

The neural handshake was Jaeger technology. The mind-melding of two pilots through memories with the help of a giant machine. The deeper the bond, the better you fight.

It always starts off with the ghost of a headache, the kind you can feel behind your eyes. Then the images and voices come flooding through. Their mother, Mary, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders as she admires the warmth of sunshine through the kitchen window. “You are my little angel” she tells Dean, three at the time, with a soft kiss to his chubby cheek. His mouth was covered with remnants of homemade pecan pie (Dean's favorite). Warmth floods through the brothers’ veins at the shared memory, and then it was gone.

Replaced by the sheer terror and helplessness as Dean clutched his baby brother to his chest and watched his childhood home burn to the ground with his mother still inside. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can!” John had told him, grabbing his son by the shoulder and shoving a swaddled Sammy into his arms. “Now, Dean! Go!” Dean almost tripped twice sprinting down the stairs as fast as his little legs could take him with the six-month-old weight still in his arms. He heard John call Mary's name fruitlessly over the roaring flames.

Years worth of memories flooding in and out in a matter of seconds. Dean teaching Sam how to tie his shoes. Sam breaking his arm playing superman and jumping off a roof; Dean, being batman, rode Sam to the hospital on his bike. Dean’s first fight at school with a bully who was picking on his little brother. Sam’s first kiss with a girl named Jessica, blonde and beautiful. The funeral three years after where John and Mary shared a tombstone. The day the two of them were accepted into the Jaeger Program.

Every inch of their body were in sync— bones, muscles—even their hearts beat in unison.

"Gentlemen your orders are to hold the target off the Miracle Mile of Anchor Ridge, copy?"

The Miracle Mile is the last-ditch perimeter within a few miles offshore to try and prevent kaiju from reaching land. It is closer to shore than the Pan Pacific Defense Corps' cordon distance of ten miles, in which to intercept a kaiju approaching a city. As kaijus swim in towards targeted coastal cities from the ocean, the Defense Corps deploys Jaegers to the shallow coastal waters offshore to intercept and kill them before the beasts get to their targets. Experience has shown that the target distance for a successful intercept is ten miles offshore.

Should the kaiju incapacitate, destroy, or evade the Jaeger and cross this limit, it becomes extremely difficult to intercept it before it makes landfall. It was considered a miracle for a Jaeger to stop a kaiju from coming onto shore should they engage after it breaks the ten mile cordon distance. Sam and Dean had never let a kaiju break through the Miracle Mile and they weren't about to start today.

"Yes ma'am." Dean answered

Sam held a despairing gaze for a moment "Marshall, there seems to still be a civilian vessel in the gulf--"

"Mr. Winchester your mission is to protect a city that holds two million people; you do not risk those lives for a boat that holds ten. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am." A few buttons pushed later and her voice connection was gone. And Dean thanks everything on behalf of his brother that Naomi can't hear bitchfaces in Sam's voice like he can.

Everyone knows Naomi is more big picture than she is a nuts-and-bolts kind of thinker, but still. "Shit. That's cold."

"Yeah."

Dean chanced a mischievous grin at his brother "You know what I'm thinking?"

Sam smirked lightheartedly "Dude, I'm in your head. I know"

"Then let's go fishing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character death. And for those of you who've seen the movie, you know who it is.

There are certain things in this world that you can't fight. Things that are considered "acts of god". Anytime you see a hurricane coming, you get the hell out of the way. No other options. But when you're in a Jaeger. Suddenly, you can fight the hurricane. And you can win.

"Feel the burn, brother!" Dean chuckled "I should be in The Olympics for ass-kicking." Sam attempted and failed to stifle a laugh. “C’mon, Sammy, put some muscle to it!”

“Worry about yourself. I think you’re getting a little gray over there.” Sam quipped.

Dean did look at him then, a small falter in his step and what had to be legitimate offense on his features. “You shut your mouth.”

Sam barked out another laugh and the trek continued.

The muscle required to hull The Impala's legs through the heavy storm currents was intense. However, once the right gait was set up, steps were smooth sailing.

Ten miles off the Alaskan coastline, a meager 20-foot fishing vessel is tossed around in the storm like a feather on an autumn wind. The crew hanging on to the rusty railings as the waves thrashed them about mercilessly. An eerie blue glow from beneath the water was the signal to grab the boat and get the hell out of dodge. A long point resembling volcanic rock emerging from the depths was the signal to hurry the fuck up.

The vessel looked like a toy sailboat in the palm of The Impala's hand, dripping sea water and lights flickering.

The kaiju roared and burst halfway out of the water. A giant horn extending from its head made it's small face and shark-like jaw look awkward in comparison, with eyes on either side of its rocky head. Bumps and arched bones lined its back and shoulders. A clawed palm struck across The Impala's turned back, shielding the vessel, Sam letting the boat drift safely back into the water in one smooth motion.

The Jaeger twisted forward, landing two solid punches, one after the other, to the monster's jaw. The kaiju staggered, shaking its head and faltering in the ocean before two hankering titanium fists plowed downward into its skull. It snarled and leapt forward sinking its razor teeth into The Impala's left arm.

"C'mon, Sam!" Dean hollered "Light the bastard up!"

Sam and Dean cocked their elbows back, the Jaeger’s plasma cannon powering up and blasting three rounds into the kaiju's chest, its head still in The Impala's vice grip. It shrieked and convulsed, falling into the crashing sea with a sickly glow and blue blood coating the water's surface.

"Impala, what the hell is going on?" Naomi's voice came loud and clear over the pounding pulse and blood running through Dean's ears.

"Job's done, ma'am. Lit 'em up and bagged our fifth kill."

"You disobeyed a direct order!"

"Respectfully, ma'am," Sam huffed with hoarse breath; smiling at his brother "we intercepted a kaiju and saved everyone on that boat." Dean smiled at his brother, proud and out of breath.

"Get back to your post now!" Naomi ordered.

"Yes ma'am." Dean answered, incapable of wiping the stupid grin from his face. The rush of adrenaline was still trying to settle in Dean’s veins.

The two chuckled laboriously, muscles relaxing until the faint sound of Bobby's voice jolted them. The words were muffled; Bobby must've been away from the microphone. The words Dean did catch, 'signature', 'kaiju', put him directly on edge.

"Winchesters, we're still gaining signature!" Naomi's voice sounded painfully clear "That kaiju is still alive!"

Sam and Dean returned back to fighting stance, the faint glow under the blue blood growing brighter and brighter still.

"Grab the boat and get out of there!" Naomi shouted. Left. Right. Nothing but waves and thick rain clouding their vision in the black night. "Do you copy?" They bent down to gently scoop the vessel back into The Impala's hand. "Grab the boat and get out of there, now!"

The brothers were violently knocked around the hull when a clawed palm came crashing down the Jaeger’s head before they could even dip her hand into the water. Her right arm was occupied with holding the beast at a safer distance, fingers halfway between its teeth.

”Dean, now!"

"I'm on it!" They were both exhausted and irritated. And, frankly, Dean was tired of looking at this ugly son of a bitch. So, yeah, this fucker had to go down and stay down. The Impala's left plasma cannon was already up and loading, ready to fire.

The kaiju sunk its claws into the glowing limb and impaled its speared head into the Jaeger’s left shoulder, yanking and driving until the arm was ripped clean off. It fell to the sea with a splash, flickering and sparking at every edge. Dean's gut-wrenching screams of pain echoing in the hull. It wavered and shook, tossing the brothers in every direction. Dean was just about ready to vomit every content of his stomach onto the floor, his left arm going limp and numb.

"Dean!" Sam's voice jerked Dean back to reality. Three four-foot long claws had embedded themselves through the metal exterior. "It went through the hull!"

All too quickly Dean realized they were going to die. That thing was going to rip this machine apart piece by piece. They weren't going to make it. His entire left arm and shoulder had gone cold, the rest of his body paralyzed in fear where it stood. The only thing keeping him grounded was Sam. He was right there next to him. Still there, still in his line of sight.

Anxiety and terror began to build as warning sirens grew louder and louder, beeps and sparks flitting all around them, the creak of metal slowly giving way, the tang of blood in his mouth and the smell of burning fuel and spilled oil.

"Dean, listen to me! You need to--" the outer shell of the hull tore, along with every wire and connection to Sam, and ripped him away. Blood-curdling screams filled the air, whether which brother they belonged to, it didn't matter.

Sam was gone.

"No!" Dean roared again and again, agonizing tears rolling down his cheeks. Sam's still lingering fear combining with his own and accompanying the searing jolts of pain and sparks of electricity tearing through Dean's body. Seconds later he found himself pinned to a cliff of rock jutting out of the ocean, smashing on contact with the kaiju's head plowing into The Impala's chest.

His head pounded, bones ached and his muscles strained, the sheer force it took to switch the control from his left hand to his right burned like crazy, pain vibrating through his limbs, but somehow Dean managed to will the right arm of the Jaeger up, plasma cannon loading for one last round. The kaiju busied itself with scraping and tearing at every inch of metal and wire its teeth could reach. The computer voice scratched out "Firing cannon" in ear-numbing static. There was a burning pulse and a flash of white light.

Then silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so awful. I've never killed a character in my writing before. And I did think about ways I could've changed the story to keep Sam alive, but it just didn't feel right. Sorry!  
> (After this shit is over, I'm just going to stick with writing fluff and mild angst from now on.)


	4. Chapter 4

Everywhere he looked was white and blurred when Dean and The Impala dragged step by agonizing step, leg joints moaning at every use, out of the ocean and collapsed onto the nearest shore. His ears rang from the impact and a blunt pain buzzed in his head when he was finally able to disconnect himself from the Jaeger and crawl out of the hull. Blood ran from his forehead into his eye, down his arm from his shoulder, and down his leg from just above his hip. It was warm on his skin, a sharp contrast against the bone-deep cold that hit his exposed skin seconds later. Dirt dug up from beneath the snow where The Impala landed collected on Dean’s suit and caked in the gash on his hip before he could stagger to his feet. The wind whipped around the shredded remnants of his shoulder armor and chilled his wounds. Snow and smoke collected on what was left of his shattered faceplate. His lungs burned for oxygen Dean barely had the energy to give them. The landscape blurred in and out of focus and a man’s voice echoed around him.

“Hey. Are you okay? Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Hey! Are you alright?”

His head was spinning. All Dean could think about was Sam.

Sam’s screams and Sam’s fear. He felt them. Heard them. They were Dean’s, too.

And now his painfully clear absence from Dean’s side.

“Sam. Sammy. Sam!” Dean repeated like a mantra. The name growing hoarser and hoarser each time out of exhaustion and fresh tears spilling over, leaving warm streaks that chilled at the wind's touch. His throat caught and all that escaped was a miserable strangled cry. Sam was gone. He had one job: protect his brother. And he fucked it all up.

_Why couldn’t it have been me?_

His mind was a constant cycle of _no_ , _please_ and _this can’t be happening_.

And when Dean’s pain overcame him, he fell to his knees and collapsed onto the ground on his back. He heard the faint pulse of heartbeat in his ears and felt the ghost of hands on his left arm and on his chest, shaking him. His arm was still numb and every contact of fingers to his skin made his nerves buzz. Dean heard the same man’s voice yell “Krissy, get help!” before his heavy eyelids fell shut.

It's been five years since that day and Dean still has nightmares at least three or four times a week. Lee Chambers and his daughter Krissy dragged him to the nearest hospital in Sitka, where a week after he was discharged, Dean found a job working the "Wall of Life" near the coast. A forty foot thick, fifteen story tall monster of steel and concrete planned to span from Alaska to California. Lee offered that Dean could stay with them until he got back up on his feet, but Dean politely declined. They had already been kind enough to lug his ass out of the snow, he couldn’t mooch off of them on top of that. Or maybe it was because of the constant looks of pity that they attempted to hide, but couldn’t. So Dean decided to continue on his own, refusing to go back to the PPDC even though he was pretty sure they wouldn’t take him back.

The only reason Dean could even find a job on the Wall of Life was because people died on a regular basis. Not exactly comforting, but he was able to earn more food rations after three guys died at the top of the wall for some unknown reason. Poor bastards. Most people say it was a freak accident and they all fell, but Dean couldn't find it in him to care. Working the top was the most dangerous so it paid good money, and Dean worked construction for a few years after high school so he had the skills they needed. If it kept him from going to bed with an empty stomach, Dean said "Sign me up".

Covered in soot, snow, and sweat, Dean secured his equipment in his locker (which was really just a wire cabinet) and grabbed an old bent-up can of soup for lunch.

"I am here in Sydney, where yet another kaiju attack took place." All of Dean's coworkers had gathered around the tiny television that hung from the wall.

"The kaiju, an enormous category four, broke through the coastal wall in less than an hour." And it was one ugly sucker, too. They all were, actually, but this one looked like a failed third grade art project with random plates sticking out from weird places. Like one of Jurassic Park's fucked up jokes that didn't make the cut. The thing had a half-moon shaped head and four arms, two of which looked too short to use for any fighting of any kind. And it had these useless appendages on its back that looked like they could be wings in the same way a piece of paper could be an airplane. It also had no eyes, or if it did they were the size of a marble."The Wall of Life had been deemed unbreechable by its builders."

"Why the hell are we even building this thing?" Dean heard someone shout from the back.

"Shit" a familiar Cajun accent mumbled. Dean's shoulder warmed with the familiar contact of Benny's, the only friend he's made since he's been here. He’s the only one that knows Dean used to pilot. You share a shower room long enough, people start asking about your tattoos or your scars. Benny was just the only one who ever got an answer.

"That thing went through the wall like it was nothing." Dean's never seen Benny stricken about anything, but just one glance at his face made this hit Dean a lot harder than before. He'd spent five years helping build this wall just so he could watch it come crumbling down when a giant fucking beast tore through it. It showed just how small they really are. And that shit is terrifying.

"Ironically," the reporter continued "it was a recently decommissioned Jaeger, Striker Eureka, piloted by Ellen and Jo Harvelle, that finally took the beast down." The camera panned over to two beautiful women with intense brown eyes: a middle aged brunette who looked like she could give you a soft hug or kick your ass with a hand tied behind her back, the other a petite blonde with fair skin and long curly hair.

The whipping of helicopter blades through the air pulled Dean from the crowd and out into the snowy field. Six armed soldiers and a familiar auburn-haired woman in a pinstripe grey pant suit and thick fleece coat piled out of the door.

"Mr. Winchester." she greeted with a smile.

"Naomi. Looking sharp." Dean couldn't bring himself to smile back.

She looked him over, most likely taking in the grime and dirt. The lack of spark in his eyes. "It's been a long time." She finally said.

"Five years, four months." And he hadn’t even been counting.

Naomi gestured into the building "Can I have a word?"

Dean smirked emptily and led her to a broken down piece of concrete covered in moss, dirt, and rust. Leaked water that had god knows what in it and discarded pipes scattered on the floor.

"Step into my office, Marshall." Dean gestured his hand in the general direction of anywhere and planted his ass on a slab of broken cement.

"Took me a while to find you. Anchor Ridge--"

"My position travels with the wall," Dean grunted, unlacing his boots to rub at his swollen ankles "chasing shifts to make a living. What do you want?" It came out a little harsher than he intended, but he didn't apologize.

Naomi took everything in for a bit. The sound of tools assaulting steel, the smell of smoke, and every corner lit with welding sparks. "I've spent the last six months activating everything I can get my hands on. There's an old Jaeger, a Mark III, you may know it...it needs a pilot." Dean huffed a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. "I'm guessing I wasn't your first choice." "You are my first choice. All the other Mark III pilots are dead."

"Look," Dean sighed and forced himself on his aching feet "I can't have anyone else in my head again. I'm done." _I've lost too much._ "I was still connected to my brother when he died." Dean had to stop for a moment to press his hand to his stinging eyes and swallow the lump in his throat. "I can't go through that again. I'm sorry." He laced his boots back up nice and tight and brushed passed his former Marshall.

"Haven't you heard, Mr. Winchester?" Naomi added, loud enough for Dean to hear. "The world is coming to an end. So where would you rather die? Here or in a Jaeger?"

And that was how Dean ended up with a packed duffle bag on a military helicopter to a Jaeger battle station in Hong Kong. _I don't want to fucking die, period._ Dean wanted to think. But when it came down to it, she was right. Dean didn't even want to live in that place, much less die there. And the farther he got from Alaska, the better. Even if that meant using the one transportation method that scared the shit out of him more than airplanes.

It was a little warm, not too bad, but humid as all hell and raining buckets. Lamp lights lid the landing pads because the sun was blocked out by dark grey rain clouds. Dean smoothed himself out and got off the chopper, internally thanking the universe that he was back on solid ground. Soggy, but solid. Naomi thankfully handed him an umbrella so he could--

Dean's entire thought process came to a screeching halt in favor of _holy shit._ He found some serious baby blues staring back at him, accompanied by a strong jaw and a case of what looked like either bed head or sex hair, all wrapped up in a suit complete with a loose tie and an ill-fitting tan trench coat. A pristine laminated Pan Pacific Defense Corps badge hung from his neck.

"Mr. Winchester, this is Castiel Milton; one of our brightest." Dean noticed a gleam of pride in her light quirk of lips. "Also in charge of the Mark III Restoration Program. He personally hand-picked your copilot candidates."

Castiel tilted his head to the side and squinted as if Dean were a piece to a puzzle that refused to slip into place. The expression shouldn't be endearing on a grown man, but, oddly enough, it was.

"You're very different from how I imagined." And Castiel's voice isn't how Dean imagined it either. All low and gravelly and pretty fucking attractive; it matched the rest of him. "I've heard so much about you." Dean would bet anyone could sit and listen to this guy read a phone book.

Dean realized he had been staring when he noticed Castiel’s hand outstretched for him to shake, had probably been hanging there for a good few seconds. "Not really sure how I should take that." he settled on saying, shaking Castiel’s hand. Good? Bad? He was a topic of conversation for a while? It's weird thinking this Castiel guy could know so much about him and Dean just met the man.

Castiel smirked at him in what seemed like good nature and Naomi followed him into the entrance of a large elevator. Naomi shook the excess water off of her umbrella and handed it to Castiel, who also collected Dean's and mimicked her movements. "I'll show you the facility first and then Mr. Milton will show you to your room."

"Wait for us, please!" "Hold the door please!" And two more dark blue umbrellas squeezed through the elevator doors just before they shut. A handsome Asian kid in a Princeton hoodie who looked like he had to be fresh out of high school, and a red-haired girl with thick-rimmed glasses and a Star Wars t-shirt.

"Stay back," the red-head insisted "kaiju specimens are extremely rare. So look, but don't touch, please." It was then that Dean noticed the kaiju organs in tanks floating in sickly yellow colored water.

"Mr. Winchester, this is our research team:" Naomi introduced "Dr. Bradbury and Dr. Tran."

"Nah, call me Charlie.” the red-head smiled. “Only my girlfriend calls me 'Dr.'" Charlie laughed more to herself than anything and removed her jacket. "Kevin, these are human beings, why don't you say hello?"

The kid rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind it, and reached across to shake Dean's hand with a soft "Hey, I'm Kevin."

Charlie had the sleeves of her plaid shirt rolled up to her elbows showcasing various tattoos on both arms. One was princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a 20-sided die. Looked like a drunken night at Comic Con. The other..."Is that Yamarashu?"

"What, this little kaiju? Yeah, you've got a good eye."

"My brother and I took him down in 2017."

"You know he was one of the biggest category II's ever? He was 2,500 tons of awesome."

An awkward silence ensued and Dean raised his eyebrows at her before she shook her head lightly "Or awful. You know. Whatever you want to call it."

"Sorry." Kevin gave an awkward smile "She's sort of a kaiju fangirl. She loves them."

"Shut up, Kev. I don't 'love' them, okay? I study them." Charlie put air quotes around the word "love". This looked like an argument that has been revisited multiple times. "And, unlike most people, I'd like to see one alive and up close one day."

The elevator reached the ground floor and let Castiel and Naomi off. Before leaving, though, Dean placed a firm hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Trust me," he told her "you don't want to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I most likely won't elaborate on who Charlie's girlfriend is in this fic, so feel free to insert whoever you like.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean half-smiled the entire trek down the hallway. "That's your research division?" They were weird, but not so much in a bad way. Dean could see himself growing to like Charlie and Kevin.

"Things have changed, Dean. The U.N. has decided to fund us only for the next eight months until the coastal wall is completed."

"Yeah, because that's worked out so well."

Naomi smiled and Dean thought he saw a bit of affection and amusement in her eyes. "We're not the army anymore; we're the resistance." Castiel punched in a few numbers into a control panel on the wall and the metal doors opened with a loud clunk and roll of wheels. "Welcome to the Shatter Dome."

The Shatter Dome, at first glance, resembled what Dean could only describe as a post-apocalyptic airport. People in each direction bustling like ants rebuilding their home after a snotty kid kicked it to the ground. Bare light bulbs in all sizes hung from every corner like a damn Christmas tree. Dean was so in awe he barely had time to dodge a man on a rusty old golf cart who screeched to a halt and flipped him the bird for being in his way. An orange-yellow glow from a big digital flip clock with a countdown above the door.

"The war clock." Naomi explained. "We reset it after every kaiju attack. It keeps everyone focused. Especially since the frequency of the attacks is accelerating."

Dean jogged to catch up with her, still marveling at it all "How long until the next reset?"

"A week if we're lucky. My experts believe there will be an attack even before that." And by "experts" Dean assumes she means Kevin. He didn't seem like the type to delve in kaiju juices like Charlie, and he was too skittish-looking to be a pilot, but he had to be doing something to earn his badge and “Dr.” title. "This station used to lodge 30 jaegers in 5 bases just like this one. Now we only have this base and 4 jaegers left."

"I had no idea it was that bad."

"It is that bad."

Naomi gave him the rundown of all the jaegers and pilots housed on the base. Crimson Typhoon. Stationed in China with a full titanium core; no alloys. Fifty diesel engines per muscle strand. A very precise fighter piloted by Gordon Walker, Richard Roman, and Bartholomew Kelly. Three guys who were drafted to the port a few years ago. None of them have a reputation of being the most pleasant people to be around, but they successfully defended the Hong Kong port seven times using the thundercloud formation: a very effective triple arm technique. So yeah, their team is made up of tools and assholes and Kevin Bacon-looking douche bags, but if they can get the damn job done, Dean's not complaining.

Sioux Falls was up next, named after the city in South Dakota. A first generation Mark I, she was the heaviest and oldest Jaeger in the service. She was clunky looking, but Dean knew she was still a badass brutal war machine. Her pilots were Jody Mills and Victor Hendrickson, a small town sheriff and an FBI agent who were drafted to assist in border control for the Siberian Wall. That wall stayed unbreeched for six whole years.

"Ladies, welcome to Hong Kong!" Naomi called to the two women Dean recognized from the news report the other day. The older of the two approached them and shook Dean's hand with a firm grip. "Dean, this is Ellen Harvelle, an old friend from the Mark I glory days."

"I know you. We rode together before." Ellen greeted with a smile, her voice husky yet pleasant.

"We did, ma'am." Dean smiled. "Three years ago, my brother and I, on a three Jaeger team job."

"Yeah I remember." Ellen grinned at him as if she'd known him his whole life, and then her face became solemn. "I'm sorry about your brother."

All Dean could do was nod and say "Thank you."

"Ellen and her daughter Jo will be running Striker Eureka, the fastest Jaeger in the world. The first and last of the Mark Vs. Australia decommissioned it a day before the Sydney attack."

Ellen shoved her hands into her coat pockets "Yeah, they were lucky we were still around."

Dean glanced over his shoulder where Castiel and Jo were in the midst of polite conversation. "That's all well and good but you still haven't told me what I'm doing here."

"We're going for the breech, Mr. Winchester. We're going to strap a 2,400 pound thermonuclear warhead to Striker's back, detonation equal to 1.2 million tons of TNT. And you and two other jaegers will be running defense with them."

"I thought we were the resistance. Where'd you get something that big?"

"Mills and Hendrickson were stationed in Siberia for six years; you make friends along the way. The Russians can get us anything. Ellen, shall we?"

"Good to have you back, kid." And with a good-natured clap on the shoulder, Ellen was following Naomi between the steady workers.

"I'll show you to your Jaeger now."

"Hey Castiel, can you gimme a minute?" Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and, when Castiel nodded and stayed put, ran after Ellen and Naomi. "Marshall!" His voice lowered once he was within earshot. "We've hit the breech before. It doesn't work. Nothing goes through. What's changed?"

"I have a plan. I need you ready. That's all you need to know." And she and Ellen disappeared down a corridor.

\--

“In the beginning, the kaiju attacks were spaced by twenty-four weeks. Then twelve, then six, then every two weeks. The last one, incidentally, was a week.” Kevin’s neat handwriting took up space on every available inch of his laboratory blackboard. Numbers and symbols and scribbles that resembled odd doodles all so scrunched together it would take a madman to sort through it all. “In four days we could be seeing a kaiju every eight hours until they’re coming every four minutes.” He jumped off the stool he was precariously perched on and rolled the tiny leftover nub of chalk between his fingertips in what looked like a nervous tick. “Marshall, we should be seeing a double event within seven days.”

“Mr. Tran, I am to drop a 2,400 pound thermonuclear bomb; I need more than a prediction.”

“Well, then that’s a problem,” Charlie chimed, tossing a kaiju intestine onto a table across the room where it slid off its mark and hit the floor with a disgusting splish “because he can’t give you anything more than a prediction.”

Kevin picked it up and held it carefully between two fingers and through it into a plastic bin, wiping his hands on his pants afterwards. “Come on, Charlie, I don’t want entrails all over the place—”

“Kevin.” Ellen urged. “Focus.”

Kevin took a deep breath “I’m telling you, there will be a double event. And then three, and then four, and then—”

“And then we’re dead. I get it.”

“Fortunately, though, there’s some good news.” Kevin crossed the room to his hologram computer and flit his hands around to pull out a glowing funnel shape made of vivid green dots. “Here is our universe… and here is theirs.” A pull of his fingers highlighted the top and bottom areas in yellow. Every shape moving where his hands told them to go “And here’s the passage between the breech and us; we know it’s atomic in nature. If I’m right, the increased traffic will force the breech to stabilize and stay open long enough for you guys to get the bomb through and collapse its structure.” The dots crumpled and fell to the ground like discarded legos, bouncing off the dusty tiles and disappearing from sight.

“Yeah, and that’s where I gotta butt in because I, personally wouldn’t wanna go in there with that limited amount of information.” Charlie interrupted from her place next to a piece of kaiju carcass. Her elbow-length rubber gloves covered in blue blood and a lamp attached to her head. By then, Kevin was already frowning at her. “Here me out for a second, okay? Why do we judge the kaijus on a category system? It’s because each one is completely different from the next, right? One looks like a shark and one looks like a fish and—well, anyway. The point is, I don’t think they’re all completely different after all.”

Charlie pulled a trolley from behind her where two purple spongy shapes sat in plastic trays. “These are some samples I collected. This one here was harvested in Sydney, and this was harvested in Manila…six years ago. They have the same exact DNA. They’re clones!” Silence ensued with three squinting pairs of eyes on her. Charlie hopped over the autopsy table and tossed her dirtied equipment on her desk. She pulled a dust cloth off of one of the tanked specimens she and Kevin brought in that morning. “There’s so much more to the kaiju than we understand, and we’ve really only scratched the surface. This is a piece of a kaiju’s brain. Unfortunately, it’s damaged. It’s a little bit weak, but it’s still alive. Now, I think I can hack into it using the same tech that lets the two Jaeger pilots share a neural bridge.” Charlie grinned so proudly her cheeks hurt. “I could tell you exactly how to get through the breech yourselves, using their knowledge against them.”

Ellen crossed her arms in an obvious mother stance “You’re suggesting we initiate a drift with a kaiju.”

“No, not a whole kaiju, just a tiny piece of its brain.”

“The neural surge would be too much for the human brain.”

“I agree.” Naomi replied

“I don’t agree.” Charlie sputtered.

“Kevin,” Naomi turned to him “I’d like your data on my desk as soon as possible, please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Charlie began to protest, but Naomi and Ellen were already shutting the door behind them. “But! Wait a second!”

“Charlie, enough, okay? It’s not going to work.”

“It is going to work, Kev, and I’ll tell you something else: fortune favors the brave, little dude.”

He lifts his brows at her “Yeah? So does death.”

“Why do you always have to be so negative?” Charlie shrugged.

“You heard them,” Kevin argued, already halfway out of the lab “they won’t give you the equipment; and even if they did, you’d kill yourself!”

“Or I’d be a superhero!”

\--

Castiel led Dean up grated stairs and across a balcony, underneath welding sparks and the sound of electricity zapping through wires. “There she is.”

“Oh my god.” Cranes and ladders all a different levels, bright orange lights, people bustling all around a gargantuan navy blue Mark III Jaeger. Dean leaned onto the railing and marveled at the view “Look at her. So beautiful…she looks like new.” No missing limbs, no dents, not even a scratch on the smooth iron exterior.

“Better than new; she has a double core nuclear reactor. She’s one of a kind now.”

Dean adjusted the strap of his duffel on his shoulder. Seeing The Impala again after all these years made the empty space at his side and in his heart that much more obvious. “She always was.”

“How you likin’ your ride?” A familiar gruff voice echoed from behind them. “Solid iron hull, no alloys, forty engine block per muscle strand, hyper-torque driver for ever limb, and a new fluid synapse system.”

“Bobby!” Dean couldn’t remember the last time he smiled this wide. Bobby trudged up the three small steps and wrapped him in his arms tight enough that it hurt. Dean clutched at his dirty old vest that he still wears after the years went on along with that worn out old ball cap. Bobby clapped him hard on the shoulder and Dean noticed his whiskers got a little longer than the last time he saw him. He looked tired and a little rough around the edges. “It’s good to see you, boy.”

“Yeah, you too.” Dean gripped tight on the shoulder fabric of Bobby's shirt. And if his voice cracked and lower lip trembled, no one commented on it.


	6. Chapter 6

The housing bedrooms were really no different from the rest of the base. Industrial build, more than a few rusted areas with concrete walls and steel doors. Dean dropped his dirty duffel bag on a spartan made bed with a single mattress, a simple cotton pillow and a thin green sheet. On the bedside nightstand was an alarm clock and a stack of old photographs held together by a worn rubber band. He picked them up and unwrapped them: they were the pictures he kept in his old room at the station in Alaska. "So what’s your story? Storing old jaegers, showing has-beens like me around…that can’t be it. You a pilot?"

"No. But, I want to be. More than anything." Castiel smiled, small and reserved, which Dean decided was genuine.

Dean was surprised; not exactly pegging the quiet guy who toured him around the Shatter Dome as an aspiring Jaeger pilot. He couldn't help but give the man a flirty smile and chin lift. "What’s your simulator score?"

"Fifty-one drops, fifty-one kills." He smiled a little bigger this time. Proud.

"Holy shit, that’s amazing. But you’re not one of the candidates tomorrow?"

His smile dropped. "I’m not…Naomi has her reasons."

"Yeah, she always does, doesn’t she? But with fifty-one kills, I can’t imagine what they could be." There had to be something more than what Castiel was letting on if he got a 51 on his simulator and Naomi didn't leap at the opportunity to enroll him in the program.

"I hope all my choices are well-fitted. I’ve studied your fighting techniques, strategies, and past experiences. Even…Alaska."

Dean decided not to push, but instead go along with the subject change. "And what do you think?"

Castiel sighed and studied him hard "I think…you’re unpredictable. You have a habit of disobeying orders and deviating from standard combat techniques. You take risks and injure yourself and your crew. I don’t think you’re the right man for this mission."

"Wow." Dean felt like a bucket of ice water was just dumped on him. Brutal, but he can't exactly argue that it wasn't true. "Thank you for your honesty, I guess. You might be right..." He noticed he had absentmindedly shuffled through the photos in his hands. The top picture was a little blurry with a slight glare in the corner, but it was definitely Dean and Sam. The two of them had gone out to a bar with some friends to celebrate their first successful Jaeger mission. Dean had his arm slung haphazardly around Sam's shoulder, the two of them grinning like fools. "But one day, when you’re a pilot, you’re gonna see that in combat you make decisions…and you have to live with the consequences. That’s what I’m trying to do." Dean replaced the picture on his nightstand and shut the bathroom door behind him. He heard the bedroom door across the hall creak open loudly, so obviously Castiel got the hint and left. It was going to be a little awkward having their rooms so close, but Dean wasn't sure why. He simply shed his clothes and took a quick shower.

The water was warm and the pressure was good enough to get the sweat and grime off his body. It still smelled like a warehouse and the walls were peeling, but soap and shampoo was good enough for Dean. Back when he was working the construction site, all he could hope for was a good rinse before he went to bed for three or four hours just to wake up and repeat the cycle, so this was pretty fucking nice; there was even already a bar of soap and a small bottle of shampoo on a shelf. The showerhead shook and strained to sputter out more water, so Dean decided it was time to hop out. He dried his lower half off and threw on boxer shorts and a fresh pair of pants.

His chest, back, and arms were still soaked as he looked for a clean (well, clean _er_ ) shirt in his bag when he noticed his door was still open and Castiel was staring at him from across the hall. He knew he had pants on, but Dean had never felt so naked in his life. Those intense blue eyes raked over him like they could burn holes in his skin just from the force. Castiel's face crumpled and Dean knew, he fucking _knew_ , that he had noticed the scars. The ones that curved over his left pectoral, across his ribs, and down from his shoulder to his elbow. Three jagged claw marks set equally apart, red raised skin jetting across his right hip. He still wakes up sometimes hyperventilating with his left arm gone numb. And the ugly markings are a constant reminder that he's lost what he would gladly give his arm and then some to have back.

Castiel jumped, noticing he was caught and quickly slammed his door shut. Dean did the same with a little more force than necessary. He didn't need anyone's pity.

At three-thirty the next morning, Castiel checked to make sure Dean's door was still shut before creeping out of his own room and down the hall. "The candidates are ready. We will commence the trials immediately." Castiel reported to Naomi half an hour later after setting up the gym into a fighting ring and making sure everyone was there and accounted for.

"Good."

"But, there is one thing—"

"Castiel," Naomi reprimanded "we’ve talked about this. We will not be talking about it again."

Castiel huffed and inched closer to her as they walked through the operations room "All due respect, you promised—"

"Castiel…" Naomi looked around them and leaned in to speak softly "vengeance is like an open wound. You cannot take that level of emotion into the drift. End of discussion."

"But if you would just listen—"

"If we had more time. But for right now, no." And she left it at that.

Dean dragged himself out of bed at five on the dot and headed for the mess hall. The noise level was just above a dull roar; very lively. A little too lively for a more-than-usual-sleep-deprived Dean's taste. "Dean! Why don’t you sit with us? There’s plenty of room at our table." Ellen balanced two trays in each hand of breaded chicken, mashed potatoes, bread, pasta, and peas. She smiled and handed one to Dean. 

"Thanks."

Ellen let out a small contented sight when she took her seat across the pale blonde and gestured for him to take the seat next to her "Dean, this is my daughter, Jo; she’s my copilot now. And this is Gordon, he pilots the Crimson Typhoon."

"So, you’re the one running defense for Ellen with us in that old rust bucket of yours?" Gordon questioned with a sneer.

Dean just focused on impaling his chicken with a fork, which was much harder than it sounds when you're using plastic cutlery. "That’s the plan."

"Good. So, when was the last time you jockeyed, Dan?"

Dean wasn't sure the misname was on accident or purpose, but it was too early to get riled up so he ignored it. "'Bout five years ago."

"What’ve you been doing for five years? Something pretty important, I’m sure."

Dean paused to stare daggers at the man "I was in construction."

"That’s great." Gordon chuckled. "That’s really useful. We get into any trouble you can build our way out of it."

"We talking misdemeanor kind of trouble or “squeal like a pig” trouble?" Dean smirked.

"You got a sense of humor, Dan, I’ll give you that."

"It’s Dean."

"Whatever. Look, your Naomi’s bright idea. I don’t see what use you’ve got around this dump." Gordon wiped the crumbs off his hands and rose from his seat. "You’re dead weight, man; and if you slow me down, I’m gonna drop you like a sack of kaiju shit."

"He’s a peach, ain’t he?" Ellen remarked to break the awkward silence.

"He’s not wrong." Jo spoke for the first time since Dean's met her.

"Joanna Beth." Ellen warned.

Jo faced Dean full-frontal now. "Naomi and my mom might like you, but it’s guys like you who brought down the Jaeger program. We wouldn't have to hide out like we're planning a fucking anarchy if people like you would just do your damn job." She dropped her fork on the table, pushed her tray away and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I’m not hungry."

Dean watched her go, feeling even more like shit than after Castiel dropped him off at his room the night before. "Don’t let anyone get to you." Ellen said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Jo’s still raw from losing her father. He was a Mark I pilot and died in combat. Being part of the program is almost like her last connection to him, so she takes it a lot more personally than most."

"Jeez…"

"She wasn’t happy about the program being shut down; no one was. She’s just finding something to take her anger out on." Ellen continued. "And Gordon’s just an asshole."

Dean did smile, however briefly. "She’s right though."

Ellen caught him off guard when she cuffed him on the back of the head painfully hard "Shut up and eat your damn food."


	7. Chapter 7

The candidate trials began at six that morning. Each candidate was given a hefty wooden staff to spar with. And it was around fifteen minutes after the hour that Dean had already torn through three candidates, with only a light sheen of sweat to show for it. With respect, the guys got harder and harder as the matches went on, they had very similar fighting stances and tactics to his own, but Dean was barely being challenged when it came right down to it. He considered dialing his moves down just so the spars could go on a little longer.

"Four points to two." Castiel called out in an unimpressed tone, like he had been every time a round was over for the last twenty minutes. It was actually starting to get pretty fucking grating. Dean helped up him most recent challenger with a sweaty hand from where he had flipped the poor man on his back on top of the hard mat.

"Okay, what?" Dean snapped, turning to square his shoulders at the man holding the clipboard. "You don't like them?" Dean took a moment to catch his breath and propped his hands on the six-foot wooden fighting stick in his hands. "I thought you selected them personally?"

"Excuse me?"

"Every time a match ends you make this snide little gesture. Like you're critical of that performance.

Castiel squinted at him with the edge of what looked like it might be a smirk "It's not _their_ performance. It's _yours_. Your gambit." Dean raised his eyebrows and have Castiel the haughtiest grin he could, the rest of the candidates oh-ing behind him and snickering like someone just cracked one of those middle school yo-mamma jokes.

"You could've taken all of them two moves earlier." Castiel continued

"You think so?"

"I know so." And, damn, the bastard was _smug_ about it.

"Can we change this up?" Dean shouted loud enough for the entire gym to hear him and pointed his stick toward Castiel as a challenge. "How 'bout we give him a shot?"

The oohs and ohs started back up again with gusto, accompanied by light applaud and a few people yelling 'yeah!' 'Come on!' 'Let’s see it!'.

"No." Naomi answered firmly at Castiel's side, who had been looking to her with expectant blue eyes. "Stick to the cadet list we have, ranger. Only candidates with drift compatibility.

"Which I have!" Castiel protested in a low rumble.

Naomi craned her head toward the young man at her side and rebuffed him in a low voice “Castiel, this is not just about a neural connection, this is also about a physical compatibility.” 

“What’s the matter, Marshall?” Dean butt in, a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Don’t think your brightest can cut it in the ring with me?” 

It wasn’t a look he’d seen often, but Dean knew the deflate of internal defeat on Naomi when he saw it. She looked like a mother who just gave in to her toddler wanting a snack before dinner: not pleased in the slightest, but not exactly willing to do anything about it. The other look, however, he'd seen plenty of times before. On pretty much everyone. The I'm-totally-unamused-with-your-shit-Dean kind of look. She took the clipboard from Castiel's hands and muttered "go" under her breath.

Castiel made his way down the short steps and unlaced his boots, making sure to keep his grin of triumph under wraps and placing them neatly at the edge of the mat. He cuffed his pants up to his ankles and shed the button up P.P.D.C. shirt to the floor so that he matched Dean in nothing but belted pants and a sleeveless top. The lack of layers showcased a well-toned chest and impressive arms and his incredible back muscles shifted as he walked. Dean did not possess, nor did he want, the amount of self-control it took not to stare shamelessly.

“Remember,” Dean warned when Castiel brushed his shoulder to take his place on the other side of the ring “it’s about compatibility. It’s a dial-up, not a fight. But I’m not gonna hold back, either.” 

“Okay.” Castiel agreed noncommittally as if he was just told to pick up milk on the way home. He faced Dean with his sparring rod firm in his grip, that smirk back in place on his face “Then neither will I.” 

They both assumed their stances and stayed there for a good minute, swaying on their feet and waiting for the other to move. Dean took this as a cue to strike and stop just above Castiel’s head, who had not moved from his spot. The surprised expression turned bitter when Dean lightly tapped Castiel’s unruly hair with his stick “1-0” 

Castiel knocked Dean’s rod away with his violently and switched their positions, mocking Dean’s actions “1-1” and set his wooden staff in a sheathed position. 

He was unable to block when Dean slid forward and tapped his stick at Castiel’s side “2-1. Concentrate.” he chastised. 

Castiel once again slapped him away, this time with Dean able to retaliate. Every opening was blocked, every block was counteracted and the vicious cycle continued until Castiel was able to catch Dean off guard while he pulled his weapon back to strike again and lunged forward, his stick steadied just an inch in front of Dean’s nose. “2-2. Better watch it.” 

Dean struck back, landing a blow on the rod stretched horizontally to shield Castiel’s face and the tug-and-pull continued with Dean on edge. The knock of wood on wood echoed louder and louder and rang in their ears, their visions blurred with adrenaline and speed. Castiel hooked his staff into the crook of Dean’s elbow and launched him sideways. Dean rolled onto his shoulder and up on his knees to retaliate, only to be met with a light teasing tap to his temple and a breathless and sweaty Castiel in front of him. “3-2” he huffed after a beat. 

Castiel backed away and steadied himself, obstructing Dean’s clout that came crashing down seconds later. They pushed each other’s boundaries, mirrored each other’s bodies with every swift movement, it was mostly by luck that Dean was able to hook his rod across Castiel’s and flip him over his own back and onto the mat. The crowd let out a sympathetic ‘oh’ after the painful thud, but Castiel was back on his feet before long. 

A short stalemate ensued where the two men hesitated before lurching forward and throwing themselves back into the match with vigor. Dean swung forward and Castiel ducked backwards to dodge, rolling onto his shoulder around Dean and catching his leg in the process, dragging Dean onto the floor and bending his knee, holding him there. There was a blunt pain of the wood digging into his calf, but Dean was too out of breath and tired and fucking downright _impressed_ to care, splayed out on the floor with arms on either side of him. From the looks of it, Castiel was the same, hair all wild and chest heaving with sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Enough!” Naomi called and Castiel immediately dropped Dean’s leg and hopped to his feet. Dean took a little bit longer to peel his sweat-stuck back off the mat. “I’ve seen all I need to see.” 

“Me too.” Dean’s voice came out gruffer than usual and he clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “He’s my copilot.” 

Castiel’s eyes locked with Dean’s, surprise etched on his features and Dean smiled. 

“That’s not going to work.” Naomi replied. 

All Dean could think of was _the fuck?_ Did she not see what just happened? Dean’s brows furrowed and he wiped the beads of sweat from his upper lip. He decided to go with a more respectful “Why not?” 

“Because I said so, Mr. Winchester. I’ve made my decision. Report to the Shatter Dome in two hours and find out who your copilot will be.” And Dean knew that tone. It was the _final_ tone that meant there was no getting around this; and she left. 

Dean turned to Castiel, who probably knew the same judging by the fact that his face was crumpled with disappointment and resignation, only chancing Dean with a quick glance before exiting stage left as quick as he could. 


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel realized upon reaching the end of his room’s empty hallway that he had forgotten to lace up his boots and button his shirt back up. The sweat on his skin had dried, leaving a very unpleasant residue that could be dealt with later. He braced his back against the wall and exhaled deeply, the cool cement and metal felt nice through the thin fabric of his shirt and Castiel screwed his eyes shut, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knelt down to adjust his boots, one slipping off his heel slightly, and laced them up to the top with deft fingers. He then realized there was no point since he was only a handful of feet away from his bedroom door.

A voice echoed from the other end of the hall when he finished the last knot. “Cas!” Dean walked briskly toward him, Castiel only slightly surprised by the nickname. “What was all that about?” 

Dean edged closer and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, completely uncaring of the lack of space between them and couldn’t help the beam that was starting to make his cheeks hurt. “You felt that right? You had to have felt that! We are drift compatible.” 

Cas apparently thought this would be a good time to check out his shoes because, unlike every other goddamn time since Dean’s been here, Cas wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Thank you for standing up for me…but there’s nothing to talk about.” 

And what the hell? Cas didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be so submissive and just let shit like this go. This couldn't have been the same dude that came this close to handing Dean's ass to him in the ring not ten minutes before. Dean watched him fumble with the key and doorknob for a good bit before giving a genuine grin “That’s my room.” 

Cas’ shoulders tensed from embarrassment and he cleared his throat along with a gruff “Excuse me” trying to brush it off. His shoulder gently made contact with Dean’s when he swept by him. 

Dean followed, practically at his heels “C’mon, man, I thought you wanted to be a pilot.” 

Cas ignored him and opened his door with a loud creak. 

“Cas, if there is anything worth fighting for, this is it.” Castiel did turn to him then, looking exhausted. Dean felt so bad for him. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled bright with so much hope and confidence. _"I want to be one. More than anything."_ And he had proven himself; the last person Dean had felt so in sync with, so understood, was Sam. He hated seeing the disillusioned slump of Castiel's shoulders and the lack of light in his eyes. “We don’t have to just obey her.” 

Castiel’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he stepped back into Dean’s personal space. “It’s not obedience, Dean... It’s respect.” He trekked back up the stairs and slid behind his door. 

“Would you at least tell me what her problem is?” 

Cas gave him one last fleeting poignant glance and shut the door.

After a much-needed steamy shower that lasted until the water went cold and the pressure weakened, Castiel laid on his bed in faded jeans, hair still soaked and skin soft and smelling like the pine-scented soap every bathroom on the base was issued. He had been staring at reels of the same news report for half an hour: one of the recent kaiju attacks being announced by a woman with a light British accent flashed on screen with the title “MASS RIOTS AFTER SYDNEY FAILURE” in big bold letters at the bottom. The footage shown from when the Category IV kaiju broke through the wall, people screaming and scattering across the streets as the beast trampled cars and tore through buildings with a shrieking roar revealing its jagged yellow piranha teeth. 

“In the wake of the Sydney incident, which showed the ineffective nature of the Wall of Life Program, many are questioning the government’s motives and wondering why the Jaeger Program has been discontinued. Riots have erupted along the coastlines of several Pan-Pacific cities.” 

A clip aired of a U.N. representative from the states making a speech to rightfully angry civilians. “We’ve now relocated millions of civilians and supplies 300 miles inland to the safe zone.” 

_Safe zone_. Castiel internally scoffed, _Maybe for the rich and powerful_.

“I believe the Wall of Life is still our best option at this time.” The crowd began to boo and hiss and shout and the representative had to be escorted away from the podium and into a shiny black car. 

"Yeah..." Castiel chuckled humorlessly to no one in particular. "Look how that worked out."

Castiel rolled his eyes and clicked the television off. He reached for a worn navy blue shirt slung across the end of his bed and slid if over his head, running a tired hand through his hair afterward. The projection tv on his wall told him it was almost eight; the Jaeger trial runs would begin very soon. He found himself looking out of the peep hole in his door to see if Dean was still in his room and noticed he was walking out the door of his bedroom and just now sauntering up Castiel’s steps, stopping just short of knocking on the door. Castiel moved away like the door burned him and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Dean, only that he wanted to say _something_. Just because they couldn't be copilots doesn't mean they can't be friends. 

Castiel busied himself with fretting over his mussed hair and slightly wrinkled shirt before a delayed knock at his door jerked him from his thoughts. He composed himself with a quick deep breath and opened the door; his greeting smile fell and his shoulders squared instantaneously. 

“May I come in, Castiel?” Naomi smiled. 

Cas gave a curt nod and let her step behind the door before it shut. Naomi surveyed around his room for a moment. She seemed relaxed, unlike Castiel whose mind was racing. She normally didn't seek him out personally if she needed to speak with him because she was always so busy. In fact, this might be the first time Naomi had ever been in Castiel's room.

Naomi's eyes were soft as she exhaled a deep sigh and brought something from behind her back into Castiel's vision that made his heart stop. A worn yet freshly cleaned plush toy of a bright yellow bumblebee with a small hole stitched up on top of one of its white wings. "A long time ago, I made you a promise." She gently placed the toy in Castiel's hands and the soft fabric felt so nostalgic on his fingers that he felt his eyes begin to sting.

"Get ready."

Castiel smiled and Naomi followed his light step out into the hallway.

"Marshall!" Kevin called, out of breath from speeding down the corridor. "Marshall, wait! I need to talk to you!" His voice cracked as he gasped for breath, his face stricken and pale. Naomi gave Cas the go ahead to continue on without her. "Can this not wait, Mr. Tran?"

"Charlie created a neural bridge out of trash around her office and drifted with a kaiju!"


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie was sitting almost upright in a wheeled chair set against her desk when they arrived. She attempted to drink from a glass of water with extremely shaky hands, but most of it coated the floor and the front of her shirt instead of actually making it to her mouth, while her other hand clutched at the cushioned armrest like a lifeline. Her left eye was bloodshot around the iris and blood ran sluggishly from her nose. 

“I found her convulsing on the floor and I thought she was dead,” Kevin rambled, slowing down as he breathed in and out “but then she woke up and now she’s kind of…dazed and I don’t exactly know what to do.” 

Charlie gasped for breath like she ran a marathon, yet still was able to give the two a twitchy grin. “I told you it would work.” 

“Yes you did.” Naomi smiled lightly, a little dumbfounded and a lot of impressed. 

“It was only a fragment of a brain so really all I was able to get was a g—” her widened eyes twitched and she struggled, stumbling over her words “a series of images, or…impressions? You know? Like when you blink your eyes over and over and over again really fast? All you really see is like frames of….It was emotional and…”

Naomi grabbed a chair from behind it and pulled it close to the shaking redhead, whispering slowly and softly “Charlie? Charlie, look at me.” Charlie glanced at her warily as if ready to bolt to Kenya any second. “Now, I want you to take your time…and be very specific. Can you do that?” 

“Okay.” Charlie sounded like all the air had been punched out of her. She kind of looked that way too; hair all disheveled, skin paler than normal and sweating profusely with drying blood caking around her nostril. “Well, I don’t think they’re following some kind of animalistic urge like hunting and gathering. I think they’re attacking us under orders.” 

She paused for a moment almost like she completely lost her train of thought. Naomi gently placed her hand on her shoulder and gestured for her to continue. She flinched like she was just shaken from a nightmare which, all things considered, she probably was. “These beings…these masters…they’re colonists. They overtake worlds. They just consume them and then they move on to the next. And they’ve been here before in sort of a trial run. It was the dinosaurs!” she shouted “But the air wasn’t conducive enough, right? So they waited it out and they waited it out. And now, you know with the ozone depletion and the carbon-monoxide polluted waters, well we practically terraformed it for them. Because now Jurassic Park 2.0 is coming back and it’s perfect for them!”

Kevin gripped at his hair and stared at the ground like his face was about to make friends with it "I knew global warming would bite us in the ass, but never like this."

"You think _that's_ bad; they've just gotten started!" Charlie’s words sped up in panic to the point that it was almost impossible to follow. “See, the first wave, that was just the hounds! Categories 1-4? That was nothing! Their sole purpose was to aim for the populated areas and take out the vermin: us! The second wave, that is the exterminators. And they _will_ finish the job. And then? The new tenants will take possession.” 

Naomi stood, finally, the chair’s legs screeching across the floor as it slid a few inches away. Kevin was biting at his cuticles with wide eyes and whispering “this is nuts” under his breath. “Charlie, I need you to do it again.” Naomi ordered in a cold voice. “I need more information.” 

“But…” The corner of Charlie’s mouth quirked into a nervous half-smile “I can’t do it again. Not unless you just so happen to have a fresh kaiju brain lying around.” She laughed shakily until the stony resolve didn’t leave Naomi’s face. “…Do you?” 

Naomi rolled Charlie’s chair up to her desk in front of her computer, with Kevin following close behind, and typed in her override pass code. Charlie and Kevin glanced confusedly at each other before turning back to the screen where footage of a kaiju/Jaeger battle aftermath displayed. The film was grainy and sped up to show footage all taken within hours. Tents and tarps were set up around the corpse and industrial ladders were set high enough to reach the top of the body. The carcass grew smaller and flatter as shadows flit across the screen and took things away until there was only pieces of the skeleton left.

“There are certain individuals whose business is the preservation and exploitation of kaiju remains. They’re in and out in a matter of hours. They neutralize the acidic factor of the blood and they harvest what they need. Now, this guy…” Naomi flicked her finger across the touch screen and zoomed in on a stout middle-aged man with curly graying hair and a dirty coat. “He’s known as Metatron.” 

“Like the transformer?” Kevin asked. 

“No that’s Megatron.” 

“What?” 

Charlie turned to face him in her chair “The transformer? It’s Megatron.” 

“Focus, you two.” Naomi sighed with a roll of her eyes. “As I was saying…Me _ta_ tron runs the kaiju black market here in Asia. When our funding ran out, we turned to him for help and in return I gave him exclusive access to all the kaiju remains in the region.” 

Kevin raised his brows incredulously “ _You_ did that?” 

Naomi shrugged slightly “Last days of war, Kevin.” She handed Charlie a red card with a glossy shape, obviously a light-activated picture, and scribbles in pen at the top. “Go to this street corner and look for that symbol. And a word to the wise, Miss Bradbury: do not trust him.”

Charlie nodded and Naomi headed for the door "Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a jaeger trial run to watch."


	10. Chapter 10

The pilot suit no longer fits Dean as perfectly as it once did. He’s lost a bit of weight around his middle in the last few years; only being able to eat after a long day of working on the wall. But it’s also a tighter fit around his arms and shoulders than he remembers; maybe construction work has something to do with that, too. “Setting harness for test mode and waiting for second pilot.” Dean announced cheerlessly into the speaker.

Everything on the inside of The Impala was vaguely familiar. When Cas said she was better than new, he wasn’t kidding: every piece of equipment had been upgraded. The neural harnesses made a slow decent from the ceiling to rest where Dean and his mystery copilot would be able to connect.

“2 pilots onboard” came the automated voice, crystal clear now.  


“I’m gonna take this side if you don’t mind. My left arm’s kinda shot.” That was rude, Dean knew that. And whoever this person was didn’t deserve his backlash, but Dean knew exactly who he wanted to be his copilot. Yet for whatever stupid unknown reason the answer was no and no one had the decency to say why.

“Hello, Dean.” his copilot replied

Dean spun his head around so damn fast he almost got whiplash. And there Cas was, suited up in shiny black armor that contrasted his bright eyes perfectly, with a more than pleased grin. Dean couldn’t help but return it, turning his head briefly to try and hide the heat rising to his cheeks. Shit, he was happy.

“Are you going to say anything?” Cas smirked while he and Dean both pulled their helmets over their heads.

“No point. In five minutes you’re gonna be inside my head.” Dean gave him one more once-over and thanked the universe that pilot suits couldn't show boners. You know, just in case. “You look good.” Dean blushed again, which didn't even begin to _cover_ how Cas looked in that damn suit, but this time wasn’t alone when Cas ducked his head away to hide his pink-tinted cheeks and smiled.

“Okay, you two, quit your flirting.” Bobby chastised light-heartedly. “Strap in and get ready.”

“Sure thing, Bobby.” Dean began flipping a few switches on his side of the panel and exhaled heavily. “We’re not in the simulator right now, Cas.” Dean reminded him gently, all joking aside. “Remember: don’t chase the rabbit. The memories act as triggers for the drift sequence so just let them flow, alright? Don’t latch on; tune them out and stay in the drift. The drift is silence. Ready?”

Cas gave a strong nod and squared his shoulders as if he was bracing himself. The automated voice announced the neural interface trade had been initiated, and suddenly the air around them was warm and sultry.

It was mid-summer in the Winchester family’s backyard, where a six-year-old Dean and a two-year-old Sam were catching fireflies with their mother. The dewy grass flicked beneath their bare feet and Mary smiled, holding Sam's chubby hand. Dean peeked between his fingers and grinned at the airy glow inside. _"Look, I caught one!"_ he announced proudly. _"Wanna see, Sammy?"_ Dean kneeled next to Sam, who had his dimpled knuckles shoved in his mouth in awe, and opened his hands the rest of the way. The firefly stayed on his fingers long enough for them to get a better look, flicked its light, and flew away. Sam clenched and unclenched his tiny fist in a wave with a soft _"Bye-bye."_

The next memory came flooding in, and Dean didn't recognize it.

A beautiful girl who looked to be about fifteen years old, with fiery red hair and fair skin, was trailing down the boardwalk of a carnival and holding a dark-haired little boy’s hand. She had won a fluffy stuffed bee at a claw machine and given it to him. Dean could feel the soft fabric clutched in his palm. Fairy lights linked on kiosks and floating paper lanterns on wire lit the crisp Autumn night. Children laughed and screamed around them, the rumble of roller coasters' wheels echoed and the smell of cotton candy filled the air.

 _This is Cas' memory._ Dean smiled at the realization.

The next was the sharp pain of a scraped knee with warm blood trickling down the calf. The squeaking of a broken bike wheel spun close by and that same dark-haired kid sniffled on the ground while a sandy-haired preteen with whiskey colored eyes was flattening a Scooby-Doo band-aid onto the wound with an affectionate _“You’ll be alright, runt.”_ He helped the boy back to his feet with a steady hand and a ruffle to his hair before picking up the bike and rolling it away, the child's hand in his.

Then the air around them was cold; Dean was ten years old and Sam was only six, the two of them making snow angels. The snow melted underneath the heat of their bodies and freezing water soaked into their hair and clothes. Dean's fingers were numb even under the warm protection of his wool gloves. The pelt of the first snowball on his cheek was soft. _"You throw like a wimp!"_ Dean teased, tossing his own snowball at Sam. He missed when Sam ducked just in time and scrambled behind a pine tree, giggling the whole way. Dean being the older and more awesome brother finally caught up to him and smashed a load of snow into Sam's hair, who shrieked at the cold contact. They were playfully shoving each other and trying to get snow under the other's clothes when Mary called them in for a break and hot chocolate.

“Impala calibrated and lining up nicely.” Bobby’s voice kept him grounded.

_“Anna!”_

_“Dean, listen to me!”_

Sam and some kid’s voice echoed simultaneously, both stricken with fear.

Dean turned to look to see how Cas was holding up, but instead was met with Sam, sweaty and terrified.

_“He went through the hull! Dean, listen to me! You need to—”_

Sam was ripped away, the memory raw like a fresh wound. Both pilot harnesses jerked back violently.

“Dean! Dean!” Bobby called urgently “You’re out of alignment. Do you hear me? You are both out of alignment!”

Dean gasped to catch his breath “It’s okay. It’s okay, Bobby, just lemme control it.”

“You’re stabilizing, but Castiel is way out! He’s starting to chase the damn rabbit!”

Castiel was frozen where he stood, looking through his faceplate at something Dean couldn’t see. “Cas? Cas, come on, man, don’t get stuck. Stay with me. Stay here, buddy.” Castiel’s petrified breath began to fog his helmet a little. “Cas, listen to me! Cas? Cas!”

The tufts of snow around them slowly turned to ash falling from the sky, the laughter of children fading to eerie silence.

“Anna!” The voice cried again, echoing throughout a decimated city. Soot and dust from crumbled buildings covered the abandoned cars, some with doors still flung open where people must've fled without a second thought. That same little boy (who looked about ten years old now) from Cas’ memories, _Cas_ , small for his age and trembling with the bee now worn and dirty clung to for dear life in his hands. A tuft of cotton peeked out from a tear on one of the wings. The small boy sobbed and wretched, wiping his eyes with the back of his quivering hand and dragging his feet across the asphalt of a San Francisco street. He gasped and ducked when fighter jets soared above him and fired into a dusty cloud of smoke, an enormous crustacean-like category II kaiju emerging from the blur.

It slammed its body and claws into the buildings around it, clearing a path and taking off after the child with a bellow that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Cas sped off, tripping the first step and almost dropping his bee; he zigzagged through the cars and down an alley between two restaurants where he ducked behind a rusty old dumpster.

Castiel trembled and wept, curling himself into a ball and clutching the toy close to his hyperventilating chest as tears streamed down his chubby young cheeks.

Dean approached him slowly with a hand outstretched toward the child. “Cas, this is just a memory; none of this is real.”

An earthquake of a footstep sounded and Cas flinched, his bee dropping to the ground forgotten. He poked his head out from behind the dumpster just as the kaiju smashed his head through the alley and reached his claw out to dig at the tarmac just feet away from the boy. Cas jumped back and screamed, holding his hands out to shield himself.

Dean heard “Weapon system engaged. Plasma cannon powering up.” echo in the back of his head and panic rose through him like a tremor. “Cas! Listen to me! This is just a memory! None of it is real! It can’t hurt you; don’t be afraid!” Dean knelt down so that he could be eye level with the kid and reached to grab his hand, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything. "It's not gonna hurt you, I promise!"

The sound of helicopters drew both their attentions skyward where a Mark I Jaeger was being flown in.

“It’s about fucking time” Dean cursed under his breath. The kaiju’s claw was dragged out, ripping the blacktop as it went and it stepped out of Dean’s line of sight. Rumbles and crashes shook Dean’s eardrums as an enormous cloud of dust and dirt was kicked up and little Castiel turned his back and covered his ears, shrieking. He saw flashes of legs, both metal and monster, pulling and pushing back and forth until they were out of sight again. The bright blue blast of a plasma cannon fired and the beast fell to the earth with a ground-shaking thud and one last screech of life.

Castiel uncovered his ears and made a cautious trek out into the mess, picking up his bee on the way. The kaiju was dead a few blocks away with a gaping wound in its chest and bright blue blood leaking onto the road. Dean followed Cas out into the street where he was holding a hand out to shade his eyes from the light and get a better look at the Jaeger powering down in the middle of the street.

The pilot climbed out of the top latch door and all Dean could think was…nothing really. All his thoughts became jumbled and chaotic. Castiel smiled bright, his tears drying in the sunlight, and the memory faded to reality.

Both the plasma cannon and the drift sequence were shutting down and apparently the entire Jaeger was taken offline.

“Cas!” Dean shouted and ripped his helmet off, discarding it to the floor. The harness released them both and Dean was able to grab Castiel before he sunk to the floor. Dean gently pulled Cas’ helmet off and his hair was stuck with sweat to his forehead. He still looked dazed with trauma, gasping for air in Dean’s arms as he rocked them both back and forth. Dean may have not been a pilot for as long as others that he's met, but he knew shellshock when he saw it. His lip trembled and his wide eyes screwed shut tight, yet some how tears were able to escape and run down his cheeks.

“Shh…it’s okay. It’s okay.” He murmured soothingly into his hair over and over again, running his thumb over Castiel's cold and sweaty hands in comforting circles as he sobbed silently. Before long, Cas had his head heavy with unconsciousness leaning on Dean’s chest.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean had Cas’ arm slung over his shoulder carrying most of his weight down the hall. Dean had smiled at him when he regained full consciousness sitting up against the cool concrete wall. "Hey, there he is. Welcome back, buddy." He laughed teasingly when Cas groaned and asked what happened. "You gave us a scare, that's what happened. Remind me to never get on your bad side when you've got a loaded plasma cannon." Dean's plan on making a joke about it backfired when Cas certainly did _not_ feel better. "Hey," Dean told him "don't look like that, okay?"

It took him a few minutes for him to find his sea legs again, but eventually he was standing on his own, only slightly swaying every now and then. Mostly Dean figured Cas was ashamed. He wouldn’t look at anyone the entire time they stood outside of Naomi’s office and that really messed with Dean. This wasn't Cas' fault; Dean should've been looking out for him. Even though he did just about as well as Dean did his first time drifting, he still can't shake the little voice in the back of his head that told him _you should have known. You should have done more to help him._ No one should have to live through that kind of fear, let alone _re_ live it.

Castiel stood now with his back straight and hands folded in front of him, chin up and jaw clenched. Dean wasn't far away with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and pacing. They could hear the shouting from behind the iron door. “He can’t control his drift! And _he_ went out of phase first!”

“Gordon, we all know what happened.” came Ellen’s voice with a tired sigh.

“We can’t afford any mistakes if the kaiju keep evolving and kicking our asses! Winchester’s a has-been; Milton’s a rookie. I don’t want them to be the jokers I rely on to stay alive out there!”

Gordon stormed out with the door banging against the wall behind him. Ellen grabbed it before it could shut again and pointed a firm finger in his direction. “Hey! Sit tight, Walker.” She was pissed.

Gordon huffed and sneered at the now closed door, turning to stare daggers at Dean and Castiel. “You two are a goddamn disgrace. You’re gonna get us all killed, and here’s the thing, _Dean_ …” Gordon spit out his name like acid. “I’d like to come back from this mission. Because I kind of like my life. So why don’t you do us all a favor and disappear. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”

Castiel cut between them, his voice low and threatening. “Stop. Now.” His upper lip twitched up into a snarl; Dean put a steadying hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Cas’ shoulders relaxed, but only a fraction, still glaring at the man in front of them.

“That’s right.” Gordon sneered. “Hold back your little boy-toy. One of you bitches needs a leash.”

That was when Dean snapped and launched his fist quick and dead-center to Gordon’s nose. Dean heard and felt a distinct and satisfying _crack_ as knuckles met cartilage. It wasn’t long for a retaliation of Dean getting knocked in the jaw. Their arms and fists knocked together either out of one of them blocking or both of them trying to hit the other at the same time. Dean swept his heel into the back of Gordon’s knee and he folded to the floor where Dean knocked him once more across the mouth.

“Apologize to him.” Dean ordered, his voice tightening in his throat.

Gordon stood slowly and spit blood onto the floor inches away from Deans shoes with a well accented “Fuck. You.” He swung another punch aimed at Dean’s temple and missed, Dean ducking down to nail Gordon painfully in the spleen. Gordon flinched, pinning Dean’s arms and ramming him into the wall behind them. Dean’s head slammed bluntly onto the cement as Gordon landed blow after blow into his stomach. 

His head pounded with every pulse and his vision blurred a little as he blindly grappled for Gordon's neck and felt his blunt fingernails bite into the skin. Gordon squirmed underneath Dean's vice grip and slammed him into the wall again, much harder this time if it was possible. There was a flash of blonde hair in the corner of Dean's eye before Jo was between them, peeling Gordon off the other man and bending his arm behind his back at an excruciating angle to ram him against a pipeline with surprising strength. Steam burst and screamed as Gordon let out an animalistic howl of pain and fury. He launched himself at Jo, who was half his size and kicking his ass, latching onto Gordon’s still-sore arm and hooking her leg over his shoulder to drag him to the ground with her whole body weight like a fucking ninja, bending it behind him one more time.

“Enough!” she shouted as the man underneath her continued to struggle. “It’s over! You two are rangers for fuck’s sake; how about you start acting like it!”

Ellen came bursting out the door, apparently having heard all the ruckus. “What the hell is going on out here? On your feet! All of you!”

Dean felt the warm presence of Cas’ arm around his waist hauling him to his feet. Dean winced, both from pain and the realization that he just got them into even more trouble than they were already in. He glanced over at Jo whose hair was only slightly unruly like she didn't just Black Widow a guy with at least 150 pounds on her to the floor. She nodded; Dean nodded back and, even as they came to some kind of silent agreement, Dean internally reminded himself to never piss her off.

“Winchester. Milton. Into my office. Now.” Naomi left no room for argument; Dean and Castiel hurried inside.

“I went out of phase first.” Dean grunted when his ass met a cold chair “It was my mistake.”

“No.” Naomi interrupted “It was my mistake. I should have never let the two of you into the same machine.” She said it like Cas is the new kid in the neighborhood and Dean was a bad influence on him. Which, to be fair, was kind of what happened. And she sounded so damn disappointed. That probably hit harder than anger ever could. 

“So what? Are you grounding us?”

“Not you.” Naomi’s eyes drifted to the floor sadly and then to Castiel, who all but crumbled in his seat. Crushed didn't even begin to explain how Cas looked right then, brows knit together and eyes threatening to water. Dean clenched his jaw and couldn't help the voice in his head that said _he_ was the one who did that to Cas.

He stood to his feet and collected himself. “Permission to be dismissed, ma'am.” His voice broke toward the end.

“Permission granted, Mr. Milton.” she answered after a somber pause. Castiel nodded and rushed out the door without so much as looking back or faulting in his step.

“Cas, wait!" But he was already long gone. Dean clenched his fists in his lap. "Naomi, what are you doing? He is the strongest candidate by far and you know it.” Dean forced himself to stand even though he felt a little dizzy on the way up. “What other choices do we have, huh? Tell me!”

“Do not let my calm demeanor fool you, Ranger!” Naomi hollered and, shit, she was _seething_ , her eyes ice cold. To say Dean was startled is a serious understatement. “Now is not the time for your insubordination! Castiel is too inexperienced to reign in his memories during combat.”

“That’s not why you grounded him.” Dean grunted “I was in his memory. I saw everything.”

“I don’t care what you think you saw.”

What Dean saw was the fair-skinned woman in front of him, about ten years younger, crawling out from the hull of the Mark I. She pulled her helmet off with a sharp hiss of compressed air being released, her wavy auburn hair falling over her shoulders (Dean had never seen her with her hair down before. She looked good.), and smiled, bright and happy, at the young boy who was now safe and alive because of her. Cas’ tears dried in shiny streaks and he beamed back at her through the sunset lit haze of smoke and debris. Naomi climbed down from the clunky powerhouse of a Jaeger, gently taking his hand and leading him off to the rescue helicopters. The drift was terminated before Dean could see any more, but he didn’t need to.

“I know what he means to you.” Dean rushed out of the office after Naomi, who stormed out. “I saw it! I--”

“This conversation is over!” Naomi was practically jogging to the elevator.

“Marshall!” Dean sped and grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around. “Marshall, can we just talk about this for one second!” That was the first kind of physical contact outside of a handshake Dean had ever made to her. Naomi’s face was blank, but all the contained ferocity was in her eyes; she looked ever scarier than before. All Dean could do was just stand there, mouth agape like a fish trying to start sentences fifteen times over. He sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders, fists clenched at this sides.

She calmly reached over to press the downward button on the wall with stilted movements and the elevator whirred to life behind them. The doors hadn’t opened yet, and he was already in deep shit, so he figured now’s a good a time as any. “You rescued him. You raised him." Naomi's eyes widened just a fraction and Dean pushed on; she needed to hear this. "You’re not protecting him now. You’re holding him back.”

“One,” Noami got into his personal space, which was chilling unlike when Cas does it. “Don’t you ever touch me again. Two, _don’t you ever touch me again_." She lowered her hand and placed it with the other behind her back and straightened her shoulders, her words were clipped and sharp. "Now, you have no idea who the hell I am or where I’ve come from and I’m not about to tell you my whole life story. All I need to be to you and everyone on this dome is a fixed point. I do not need your sympathy or your admiration. All I need is your compliance and your fighting skills.” The elevator dinged behind her and the doors rolled open; she was practically growling now. “And if I can’t have that then you can go back to the wall that I found you crawling on. Do I make myself clear?”

Dean nodded, but Naomi leaned closer, turning her head and pointing to her ear. Dean got the picture and gave a bitter smirk. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” And she turned her heel with the elevator doors closing behind her.

Once the echo of the shaft rolling downwards flitted away, Dean slammed his fist on the metal with a loud “Fuck!”

The coil of anger and frustration still sat in Dean’s belly all the way to the mess hall, replacing his appetite so that all Dean had placed on his tray was a small juice pouch and a processed and bagged PB&J. He considered just slipping into his room for lunch when he saw Cas turn the corner with an equally lacking lunch tray. All the cold glares and whispers that were originally pointed in Dean’s direction now shifted to Cas and then in between the two of them.

Dean sighed deep and pinched the elbow of Cas’ rolled up sleeve between his thumb and forefinger, dragging him away from the crowd without a word. They ended up seated in front of The Impala, close enough that their thighs pressed flush together with their feet dangling off the edge of the metal grating and ate in silence, every once in a while sharing whatever was on their trays. 

“I’m sorry.” Dean said finally. “I should’ve warned you. First drifts are rough." He rolled a half-eaten piece of Cas' granola bar in his hand and getting crumbs and honey residue on his fingers. "You weren’t just tapping into my memories; you were tapping into my brother’s, too.” Cas perked at the delicate mention, but didn’t speak. Instead, allowing Dean to continue of his own volition. “When Sam was taken we were still connected. I felt everything he felt: pain, fear, helplessness and then...he was gone.”

“I felt it.” Cas’ voice broke, and Dean knew he really _did_ feel it. “I know.”

Dean had a particularly hard time finding words and swallowing the lump in his throat while trying to fight the stinging in his eyes. “You know, you live in someone else’s head for so long the hardest part to deal with is the silence. To let someone else in, to really connect, you have to trust them. And today the drift was strong.”

Castiel smiled small and reserved, but genuinely happy. “I thought so, too.”

They stared in silence for a moment. Something that should've been really creepy, but didn't seem to bother either of them in the slightest. “Sammy would’ve liked you, I think.” Dean mumbled after a pause.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned, nudging Cas' shoulder with his. _What’s not to like?_

After a moment Cas cleared his throat "I think Anna would've liked you, too." When Dean didn't answer, Cas gave him a sad smile. "My sister, the girl you saw in the drift, I lost her and my three older brothers in the San Francisco attack." Cas looked down at his feet, once swaying back and forth now sitting stone still "We had just moved into our fourth foster home; my brothers would cause a lot of trouble wherever we went. I loved them, but I preferred Anna's company. She was like a... vacation from all the craziness." His nostalgic smile twisted into something wistful and desolate. "She took up the role of a mother for us, and... I always felt so terrible that she had to grow up so quickly. To take care of us." He licked his chapped lips and turned away from Dean in a way he probably thought was subtle, but Dean saw the flash of tears pooling in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Cas" was all Dean could think to say. Thinking of Cas with no home and a ramshackle family, moving from place to place, never being able to root himself anywhere or make a place for himself, clinging to his siblings because they were all he had left in the world. And then to have them taken away from him. And then he realized, God, it was like looking in a mirror. He got Cas in a way the probably no one else did. And he understood Dean in the same way.

Cas cleared his throat and faced him again, tears now wiped on his sleeve. He broke his last graham cracker in half and handed the bigger piece to Dean with a smile. "It's okay." Dean took it gently and thought, not for the first time, if it would be alright to kiss Cas.

"It's why I wanted to become a Jaeger pilot." Castiel continued. His brow furrowed and he visibly swallowed. "So no one would ever have to go through something like that again. Not at the hand of those monsters." He lifted his half of the cracker to his lips, but ended up leaving it on his tray, appetite long gone.

Dean leaned forward to catch Cas' gaze and held it with a soft smile. "You'll make your family proud, Cas. I know it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't elaborate on Cas' experience in foster homes because I don't know much about foster care and I didn't want to publish anything incorrect.


	12. Chapter 12

After a bit more of comfortable silence, with nothing but crumbs left on their trays, one of the engineers working on The Impala came and tapped Dean on the shoulder telling him and Cas that the Marshall was calling everyone into the Shatter Dome Command Center. It must’ve been the entire base in there if the huge room had barely enough room to squeeze two more grown men inside. 

"The breech was exposed at 23:00 hours, dilation at 42 meters.” Bobby stood in front of everyone with a seismograph printout in each hand, dark ink scratched across the sheets to the point that there was more black than there was white in most parts. “We have two signatures; both category fours. Codenames: Otachi and Leatherback. They’ll reach Hong Kong within the hour.” Gasps and whispers broke out in the horde of workers.

Ellen and Jo were already suited up and ready to go. Next to them were Jody and Victor. Behind them stood Gordon, Richard, and Bartholomew all wearing matching dark red uniforms.

Naomi took her place next to Kevin, who had his hands clasped in front of him, knuckles going white. “Evacuate the city.” she ordered. “Shut down the bridges. I want every single civilian in a refuge right now. Crimson Typhoon, Sioux Falls, I want you to stay within the perimeter. Striker, you need to guard the coastline. We cannot afford to lose you so only engage as a final option.”

“Yes ma’am.” The two sounded simultaneously.

Naomi fixed her gaze on Dean and Castiel “You two stay put. “ Dean clenched his jaw and tightened his arms crossed over his chest. Naomi filed everyone out, pilots first and everyone else following close behind aside from Kevin and Bobby. Dean felt a warm hand on his shoulder and saw Cas attempt to smile apologetically. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Don't apologize, Cas; you and me are sharing the blame here. Besides, I know you wanna be out there as much as I do."

Cas nodded. "I don't like just _sitting_." he grumbled.

Dean sighed and lightly nudged Castiel's shoulder with his own in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Yeah, I know. Me too."

Crimson Typhoon and Sioux Falls were loaded up, dangling like puppets from the transport helicopters while Striker paced knee-deep into the water.

“Near position and awaiting orders. “ Ellen called.

“Remain in your perimeter and engage at your discretion. Keep your eyes open. These Category Fours are the biggest we’ve ever seen both in size and weight.”

Jody’s voice sounded over the speakers “On mark target, disengaging transport” before the jaegers were dropped waist-deep into the ocean.

“Alright, ladies, you keep an eye on that coast line; beacon is on.” said Victor impossibly lighthearted.

“Movement on your right!” Dick shouted. “Three o’clock!”

A slender kaiju resembling an anolis lizard lept out of the water and knocked Crimson Typhoon on its side with one swipe of its claws, halfway sunk in the water. It rolled its shoulders and growled, muscles visibly rippling under the hardened skin plates.

The jaeger dragged herself to her feet in a matter of seconds. “Thundercloud formation!” Gordon hollered.

The fingers on all three hands retracted, replaced by spinning blades that spun like a chainsaw, picking up speed until it was a metallic blur. They sliced into the monster’s chest and neck. But the kaiju latched onto two of the fists and crushed them in its claws before they could cause any more damage. The jaeger lifted up and twisted her hips and legs in the air so that she was facing the opposite direction and used her weight and momentum to heave herself back to the ocean floor and launch the kaiju over her head. The beast landed in the water with a violent splash about 200 feet away.

Sioux Falls swooped in and crashed her elbow into the beast’s skull. Its head sunk into the water for a good few seconds before the jaeger trapped its neck in the crook of her elbow and squeezed, landing punch after punch into its face and temple. The titanium knuckles dented and groaned against the crunch of bone. The kaiju slipped free and knocked Sioux over with one swoop of its tail.

“Marshall!” Ellen shouted “Sioux and Crimson are in trouble; we’re moving in!”

“You are to hold your ground. Do not engage! We need you to carry that bomb! Do you copy?”

The kaiju hooked its tail, now embossed with three hooked claws, into Crimson’s hull and clenches down hard enough to send sparks and metal debris flying. Jo took over the intercom with a huff. “We can’t just sit here and let them die! Come on!”

“Screw this! Naomi, we’re moving in now!”

Naomi doesn’t answer, only glares frustrated at Dean, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Castiel. 

“Typhoon is gone.” If Jody’s voice quivered, nobody commented on it. “That thing ripped the hull right out.”

“Let’s get this bastard!” Victor bellowed.

The kaiju’s throat expanded a bright azure glow, fat and full with a lighter colored liquid that it spat out of a spout in the back of its throat and spewed out over the jaeger’s exterior, melting it away like ice.

“Marshall, we’ve just been hit with some type of acid! The hull has been compromised! We need backup immediately!”

“Just hold on, Jody! We’re on our way!” Striker sprinted for Sioux as the kaiju gnawed at what was left of her left hand. Another kaiju, similar in the face but with a fat gorilla-like body jumped out of the water and joins in on latches onto Sioux’ back, dragging them down under.

“Water is reaching the reactor!” Victor howled

“Victor, Jody, that son of a bitch is gonna try and drown you! You have to get out of there!”

“Ellen, are you nuts?!”

“Just do it! Put on your oxygen tanks and jump! He’s got you low enough; you’ll survive the fall! Rescue choppers are on their way!” Striker strained to hold the smaller beast fist for fist at a stalemate, pushing each other back and forth before finally tipping it sideways and nailing a hard blow to its chest.

Victor and Jody hesitated, but did as they were told. Jody helped Victor unhook himself from the machinery completely and they sealed their helmets shut to pump in their oxygen. Once they felt the rush of fresh air, Victor looked out of the torn hull. They both grasped desperately at the acid eaten walls and at each other for balance as the kaiju shook the jaeger around like a ragdoll. 

“It’s still a hundred foot drop at least!” Victor shouted.

Jody grabbed his shoulder and smiled “Beats dying in here.”

"Sheriff, it's been a pleasure."

"Same to you, agent."

With a final nod they dove into the unforgiving waves and the kaiju dragged the jaeger deep underwater with an explosion of the reactor being flooded. 

Meanwhile Striker was pummeling the first kaiju into the water and gripping it by the spine to chuck it across the water to get some space between them. The jaeger’s chest plate folded in on itself and the air missiles engage. The larger beast apparently had finished tearing the last bits of Sioux Falls to shreds and roared behind them. Its skin lit up in tattoo-like markings a foamy green color, flowing to a fizzling blue orb forming at the top of the spine. It grew larger and larger until finally bursting in multiple shockwaves of electricity. A tremor of voltage pulsed throughout Striker and shot through Ellen and Jo like they just touched a live wire, an excruciating burning coursed their bones and skin. The wave crawled through the water and hit the outer ridge of the Shatter Dome and every light flickered off. 

Kevin turned the flashlight on his phone up to full brightness to better illuminate the room. “What’s going on?”

“The blast jumbled all the jaeger’s electrical circuits.” Bobby slammed his fist on the control panel with a curse.

“They’re adapting.” Kevin gasped. “This isn’t a defense mechanism it’s a weapon!”

Bobby turned to face Naomi, removing his ballcap to wipe the sweat from his brow. “We can’t reach Striker. The Mark V is digital. It’s fried.”

“How long will it take to get them back online?” she asked

“It’ll take me two hours to reroute the auxiliary at the least. All the jaegers are digital; we’re screwed!”

“Not all of them, Marshall.” Dean interrupted. “Impala’s analog; nuclear. She can still fight.”

Ellen groaned and yanked her helmet off.

“What the hell was that? I’ve never seen that before!” Jo anxiously punched the buttons for the intercom. “Bobby! Bobby, you there?”

“The whole system’s shut down. Nothing’s working.”

“The scrawny one swam away. It’s headed for the city.”

“There’s no emergency power." Ellen punched frustratedly at the control panel and sighed. It was practically pitch black inside the hull and without the whirring of the jaeger's core, the splashing waves and predatory growls could be heard just on the other side of the alloyed exterior. "I’ll have to try something else.” she clicked a button on her harness and detached herself from the machine.

“No! Don’t disengage!” As soon as the words left Jo’s tongue, the hull shook and Ellen slammed into the wall with a shriek. “Mom! Are you okay?” Ellen grimaced as her daughter helped her to her feet.

“I think my arm’s broken.”

“It’s right outside. We’ve got to get out of here, now!”

“Like hell we are!” Ellen snapped, opening a cartridge by the haul ladder. “You and I are the only things standing in the way of that ugly bastard and a city of ten million people. Now, we have a choice here: we can sit here and wait or we can take these flare guns and do something really stupid.”

Jo climbed out of the hull first. The exterior was slick with water and unstable, but she was able to haul Ellen to her side and hand her one of the flare guns. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine, baby, just shoot.”

They fired; Ellen’s shot hit the corner of the beast’s mouth and Jo’s hit it square in the eye. The monster shrieked in pain and clawed at its now burning red eye socket. Jo gripped her mother’s good arm to steady her as the kaiju snarled and threw its arms up in the air. 

"I think we just pissed it off!" Jo shouted over the howling rain and whipping wind.

It hesitated mid-strike at the bright lights of helicopters dropping a jaeger feet first into the crashing waves. The rain and sea water spattered off the machine's chest and shoulders and dripped down the arms forming clenched and ready fists.

“Go Impala!” Jo cheered with a pump of the fist still gripping her flare gun. “Kick his ass!”

Dean glanced over at his copilot and gave a reassuring nod. “Alright, Cas. Get ready. This is for real.”


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie grumbled under her breath after scouring the same stupid street corner for the last half hour ducking around the crowds of people in the pouring rain in what was known as the Bone Slums of Hong Kong. She had long since abandoned the worry of keeping as dry as possible with only the hood of her zip-up Lord of the Rings jacket to keep away the misty downpour. Dodging a group of teenagers with multicolored umbrellas, she came across a grounded ‘pedestrian area’ sign the exact color of the card Naomi had given her. And, sure enough, she flicked on her black light flashlight to find the kaiju symbol and an arrow pointing left. She followed the arrow and the others that followed on the brick walls up a stairwell that led to a small dingy shop above the slum square. It looked like a weird marijuana shop on the inside. If marijuana came in little colorful tins and boxes, that is. A little rusty bell jingled as the door swung open with two large men following her inside.

“Can I help you, Miss?” a strong-jawed man in a black leather jacket asked from behind the counter. His hawk-like gaze tracked her every movement like he didn’t trust her. Charlie knew then that this was exactly the place she needed to be.

“I’m looking for someone named Metatron.” Charlie was impressed by the confidence lack of waver in her voice.

The man signaled the two guys by the door and one locked it three different ways, standing in front of it afterward, guarding it. He pulled an unlit candle, which was actually a lever apparently, and the shelves of books and jars of who-knows-what split in two to reveal a hidden room.

“Good luck” the man smirked and stepped aside.

The room, clean and circular shaped with taupe marble floors, was filled with various men and women in worn clothes and hazmat suits picking apart kaiju remains.

“Oh my god!” Charlie shrieked, surveying the surrounding specimens in tanks and jars in the walls that resembled the ones that she brought to the Shatter Dome. “Oh my god! This place is heaven!”

Charlie flit about the room, people walking around her like she wasn’t even there. “That’s a lymph gland from a Category II! And holy shit is that a cuticle? In mint condition? Is that a kaiju skin parasite? I’ve never seen one alive before! They usually die as soon as the kaiju falls; I thought you couldn’t keep them alive!” A man in a bandana carrying one of them in his arms lifted a curious brow at her. The cat-sized insect struggled and screeched for escape in his arms as he was dunked in a bucket of clear liquid.

“You can if you soak them in ammonia.”

“Are you Metatron?” It wasn’t a question, really. Charlie remembered him from the still that Naomi showed her back at the lab.

“Who wants to know?”

Charlie narrowed her eyes; this guy was her height, a bit pudgy, with an irritatingly nasal voice and didn't look very threatening at all. She was more scared of his lackeys outside then she was of him. But she remembered the words of caution: _do not trust him_.

Charlie lifted her chin and smirked “Naomi sent me.”

The man froze and the smug grin dropped from his droopy face. “Naomi, huh? You’ve got my attention. Now, what do you want?”

“I need to access a kaiju brain. Completely intact.”

Metatron shook his head. “No, no, that’s impossible. The skull plate is so dense that by the time you drill into it--”

“The brain’s rotted away. Yeah, I know." Charlie rolled her eyes dramatically. "But I’m talking about the secondary brain. Now, we both know that the kaiju are so large that they need two brains to move around; like a dinosaur. I want to get my hands on that.”

Metatron sauntered to the open balcony and leaned on the rain-splattered railings. “What the hell do you want a secondary brain for anyway? Every part of the kaiju sells; bones, spleen, liver, even the crap! One cubic meter of kaiju shit has enough phosphorus in it to fertilize a whole field! But the brain has too much ammonia." He tilted his head back to give her a judgmental once over and squinted his crinkled eyes. "So what’s the deal little girl?”

“I’m going to ignore that completely condescending attitude and cut right to the chase: that’s classified. So I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. But it is pretty cool.” Charlie grinned proudly. “So I might tell you. I’m gonna tell you." She leaned in and gestured for Metatron to do the same. "I figured out how to drift with a kaiju.”

Metatron’s face grew tight with caution. “Are you joking?”

“It’s fascinating how their minds work! Every kaiju’s mind is connected; it’s most likely how they communicate with each other. The species has something like a...like a hive mind.”

Charlie froze when Metatron reached over and grabbed her left cheek, pulling her lower eyelid down. She remembered her busted blood vessels in her eye still haven’t healed yet. “Holy Jesus. You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you?”

“I kinda went and did it a little bit, yeah.” Personal space much?

Metatron shook his head and threw his hood over his beanie, heading for the door. “You goddamn moron.”

“Wait!” Charlie chased after him back into the room, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean? This is going to help! I know what the kaijus are thinking now!”

All the kaiju remnants had been packed away and out of sight. Metatron and the tall handsome guy from outside were speaking urgently in hushed tones. “What’s going on?”

“There are two kaijus headed straight for Hong Kong City.” Metatron cursed under his breath and threw a ratty-looking jacket over his hoodie.

“Wait a minute, that’s not possible. There’s never been two before.”

“well, maybe that’s because no one ever drifted with one before!” he yelled. “When Jaeger pilots drift, it’s a two way street; it sets up a connection, right? Both ways! A hive mentality, you said!" He jabbed a stumpy finger painfully hard into Charlie's sternum, who vocally protested. Metatron cut her off "Maybe those two kaijus are trying to find you!”

Charlie's eyes widened in panic as she rubbed her sore chest. “But what--what are we going to do?”

“I’m going to wait out this shitstorm in my own private kaiju bunker. But you” he poked her in the chest with his stubby finger “are going to a public refuge. Now get the hell out of here. Gadreel, get my car!”

"Wait!" No one seemed to hear her as everyone filed out of the building one by one.

"And get her out of here!" Metatron barked from the doorway. Suddenly there were strong hands under Charlie's armpits and lifting her up into the air like she weighed nothing. Gadreel, the tall man from before, was forcibly carrying her outside and back into the rain. She squirmed in his grip, kicking her legs and protesting the manhandling before he plopped her on her feet with what almost looked like guilt. Gadreel pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed heavily. "Go and find sanctuary." Then he turned his heel and disappeared down the dark alley.

Hundreds if not thousands of civilians flooded the streets, jumping over cars that blared their alarms and flashed their headlights. They shoved and screamed in chaos as the torrent of people stemmed off into different underground passageways as rain pounded down from the black clouds. A series of booms echoed followed by concrete, steel, and shattered glass crashing to the ground. A Category IV kaiju plowed through skyscrapers and trampled over a bookstore, the roof collapsing under its foot. It dragged its belly across the streets with long arms and sharp elbows that jetted out to the sky, a long slithering tail knocking into various taxi cabs behind it. The beast let out a shrill screech and its four oddly-spaced eyes and split mouth glowed bright blue. 

Charlie screamed and took off into the crowd, throwing her hood over her head in an attempt to hide herself as much as possible. A large man in a yellow rain poncho and a briefcase over his head tripped into her and knocked them both to the asphalt. He scrambled and jumped over her, leaving her to drag herself back to her feet and keep moving. Two police were signaling lines of men, women, and sobbing children into an underground bunker where Charlie managed to squeeze through just as the giant metal doors were closing shut and locking the panicked mass of bodies inside.

It was a tight fit with people standing shoulder to shoulder, clothes soaked from rain and sweat and air stuffy from tangling breaths. The ground rumbled with massive footsteps and dirt shook loose from the ceiling. The creature shrieked outside, sound muffled by the walls. The crowd went eerily quiet. Charlie closed her eyes and waited.


End file.
